logo
Sexual Synesthesia Paints the World in Color at the Moment of Orgasm

Sexual Synesthesia Paints the World in Color at the Moment of Orgasm

Yahoo3 days ago

Sometimes, when the sex is really good, the colors come.
As Holly approaches orgasm, a pastel filter descends over her vision, lasting through her climax and into the afterglow. She tends to see just one or two hues in the form of blurry orbs: seafoam green, bright yellow, black and red, hot pink or white. It's like peering through tinted glasses, she says, or looking up at an aurora-splashed sky. (Because of the intimate nature of the subject matter, some of the sources interviewed for this story asked to be identified only by their given name or to remain anonymous.)
'It's been happening as long as I've been having sex, as far as I know,' says Holly, a 26-year-old from California—though it doesn't happen every time. 'It's gotten more intense and colorful as my connections have been better and my orgasms have been better.' When, at 20 years old, she first talked about her experiences with her friends, they were bemused. 'I didn't feel surprised,' she says. 'It was just kind of affirming that it was special.'
[Sign up for Today in Science, a free daily newsletter]
In people with synesthesia, the brain's sensory wiring can get crossed. Orgasm synesthesia, or sexual synesthesia, is a little-known form of the phenomenon. Roughly 4 percent of people experience some kind of synesthesia; a common form is the association of colors with certain letters, numbers or sounds. In people with sexual synesthesia, it's the sensation of orgasm (or occasionally even sensual touch) that provokes the wash of color.
This experience might be more common than we realize: to seek personal accounts, I reached out to friends and my wider communities in New Zealand, asking to hear from anyone who sees colors when they orgasm—and around a dozen immediately responded with their stories.
Some people describe their colors as 'like stained glass in a cathedral,' while for others, they're more like 'artisanal soaps' or 'paint being hurled at a canvas.' Francesca Radford, a 33-year-old who lives in Auckland, says she tends to see patterns, usually zebra print or reptile scales. Rob, a Web developer in Wellington, says he has had orgasms that begin with pinprick of light and grow into a chaotic mandala, accompanied by vibrations and a roaring in his ears. Cherry Chambers, a bookkeeper from Auckland, once felt she was 'shot up out of the deep ocean into a night sky—basically a whirl of colors rushing past,' she says. 'That was one of the most intense orgasms I have ever had.'
This curious phenomenon has been sporadically documented for decades—the first academic mention is in a 1973 book by psychologist Seymour Fisher called The Female Orgasm—but it has received very little scientific attention, says Richard Cytowic, a pioneering synesthesia expert and a professor of neurology at George Washington University.
In the 1980s Cytowic had to convince colleagues that synesthesia itself was worthy of scientific investigation. This type of sensory crossover is now widely accepted and studied, but its sexual variety is less so. 'It's the kind of thing that's going to raise eyebrows in university departments,' Cytowic says. 'Even though sex is wildly popular, science about it is not.'
Now, though, neuropsychology researcher Cathy Lebeau is trying to learn more. Lebeau, whose own form of synesthesia makes her perceive letters as colored, became fascinated by accounts that suggested that sexual synesthesia could alter consciousness. For her doctoral research at the University of Quebec, she and her supervisor, neuropsychologist François Richer, interviewed 16 people with sexual synesthesia (who all also had other forms of synesthesia) and 11 people with no synesthesia, and had them complete a series of standardized questionnaires.
All but one of the participants were women, but that doesn't mean the phenomenon is necessarily linked to the female brain. Scientists used to think all forms of synesthesia were more common in women, Lebeau points out, but subsequent studies have shown that's likely because of selection bias. 'Women like to talk about their experiences, and they're more comfortable doing it,' she says.
While conducting the study—which was released as a preprint paper and has been not yet been peer-reviewed—Lebeau was surprised by how similar the participants' reported experiences were, regardless of age or whether they were from Quebec, the U.S. or Europe. 'People who didn't know each other ... were telling me almost the same thing,' she says.
For instance, almost all of them reported that they needed to feel comfortable and confident with a sexual partner to see the colors and that the phenomenon rarely happened during masturbation or casual encounters. Many interviewees said they had to be in a relaxed, passive state—and often in the missionary position. And though the specifics of their visions differed, many mentioned dissociative experiences, particularly 'the feeling that they're expanding over the room and that they're not there anymore—that they're tripping, really,' Lebeau says.
In fact, some people with sexual synesthesia say they are momentarily transported to bizarre, one-off scenes at the moment of orgasm. Once, an intricate architectural image of a staircase and lamp grew out of a beige mist before Ruby Watson's eyes. On another memorable occasion, she says, she briefly felt like she had become a panda chilling alongside another panda. She's mystified by where these images come from. 'We weren't sexy pandas,' she says. 'We were just chewing bamboo, getting on with life.'
Such scenes can completely overwhelm Watson's spatial awareness and vision, and they don't necessarily enhance her connection with her husband. 'I'm not staring into my lover's eyes,' she explains. 'I'm seeing a baroque light fitting.' A previous study found that although people with sexual synesthesia reported better sexual function overall than people without synesthesia, there was some evidence that they had slightly less sexual satisfaction because of feelings of isolation caused by their unusual sensory experiences.
Others insist synesthesia improves their sexual experience. Michelle Duff sees colors and occasionally scenes—a coven of witches on broomsticks, a sea alive with jellyfish—but because she feels like she's one of the witches or jellies, perhaps 'see' isn't the right word. 'It feels more immersive, like what I'm seeing is a visual embodiment of what I'm feeling. It's all-consuming, but it doesn't feel like I've gone off somewhere [without my partner],' she says. 'It feels like we're living out the scene together.'
For some, it can be awkward explaining these rainbow journeyings to their sexual partners. For others, that's part of the fun. 'My partners love it,' Holly says. 'That's such a thing, somebody popping their head up and being like, 'What color?' It's one of the perks of being my lover.' Rob, the Web developer, says he once had the rare joy of making love to someone else with the condition. 'That was a very fun time where we would compare notes afterwards,' he says. 'It was so euphoric and shared and beautiful.'
Almost everyone Lebeau interviewed felt positively about their synesthesia, telling her it made their sexual experiences richer. One person told her that the absence of these sexual 'fireworks' would turn her off a potential partner, even if he was otherwise perfect. 'If I don't have synesthesia when we sleep together, it's a no,' she says. Clashing or ugly colors can also be turnoffs.
Another person I spoke with says she used to feel disturbed by the colors, textures, music and patterns she saw only during sex, and she worried that they were harbingers of schizophrenic hallucinations that run in her family. When she stumbled upon an article that explained how such symptoms can represent a type of synesthesia, she says she felt a 'huge relief and freedom.'
There's no established connection between sexual synesthesia and mental health conditions, though synesthesia in general has been linked to higher rates of anxiety in children and is a significant risk factor for developing post-traumatic stress disorder.
None of the 16 people with synesthesia in Lebeau's study had psychiatric or neurological conditions. But 13 of them did report surprisingly intense consciousness alterations in daily life—a tendency that has also been observed in some studies of people with synesthesia in general. Some reported symptoms of a type of delusion called Capgras syndrome, in which a person momentarily thinks that a friend or family member has been replaced with an imposter, or Alice in Wonderland syndrome—which involves distortions of reality, including the impression that one's body is shrinking or growing.
Lebeau hopes people with sexual synesthesia might help researchers learn more about the underlying mechanisms of consciousness by providing a kind of 'healthy model' of severe consciousness alterations. Qualifying the differences in the brain between these benign perceptual disturbances and harmful hallucinations might help scientists better understand psychosis.
For now, scientists don't know what's happening in the brain during sexual synesthesia experiences. 'It is hard to speculate on the anatomical or chemical basis of this type of synesthesia from the case descriptions alone,' says psychologist Jamie Ward of the University of Sussex in England. 'It is an important first step,' he says of Lebeau and Richer's research, though 'in this particular study, it is hard to know which findings are specifically attributable to this phenomenon and which are due to synesthesia more generally. It would have been good to compare two groups of synesthetes directly—with and without these experiences.'
Lebeau would love to capture the brain activity of a person with sexual synesthesia at the multicolored moment of orgasm. Getting people to have connected, relaxed sex inside of a functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) machine, however, presents certain practical and financial constraints. 'Still, I think it's doable,' she says. 'If I had the money, in a perfect world..., that would be my dream.'
Further studies into this intriguing phenomenon would be worthwhile, Cytowic says. 'Nature reveals herself through her exceptions,' he says, 'and I think synesthetic orgasms might give us an additional clue into how synesthesia operates that we didn't have before.'

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Sexual Synesthesia Paints the World in Color at the Moment of Orgasm
Sexual Synesthesia Paints the World in Color at the Moment of Orgasm

Yahoo

time3 days ago

  • Yahoo

Sexual Synesthesia Paints the World in Color at the Moment of Orgasm

Sometimes, when the sex is really good, the colors come. As Holly approaches orgasm, a pastel filter descends over her vision, lasting through her climax and into the afterglow. She tends to see just one or two hues in the form of blurry orbs: seafoam green, bright yellow, black and red, hot pink or white. It's like peering through tinted glasses, she says, or looking up at an aurora-splashed sky. (Because of the intimate nature of the subject matter, some of the sources interviewed for this story asked to be identified only by their given name or to remain anonymous.) 'It's been happening as long as I've been having sex, as far as I know,' says Holly, a 26-year-old from California—though it doesn't happen every time. 'It's gotten more intense and colorful as my connections have been better and my orgasms have been better.' When, at 20 years old, she first talked about her experiences with her friends, they were bemused. 'I didn't feel surprised,' she says. 'It was just kind of affirming that it was special.' [Sign up for Today in Science, a free daily newsletter] In people with synesthesia, the brain's sensory wiring can get crossed. Orgasm synesthesia, or sexual synesthesia, is a little-known form of the phenomenon. Roughly 4 percent of people experience some kind of synesthesia; a common form is the association of colors with certain letters, numbers or sounds. In people with sexual synesthesia, it's the sensation of orgasm (or occasionally even sensual touch) that provokes the wash of color. This experience might be more common than we realize: to seek personal accounts, I reached out to friends and my wider communities in New Zealand, asking to hear from anyone who sees colors when they orgasm—and around a dozen immediately responded with their stories. Some people describe their colors as 'like stained glass in a cathedral,' while for others, they're more like 'artisanal soaps' or 'paint being hurled at a canvas.' Francesca Radford, a 33-year-old who lives in Auckland, says she tends to see patterns, usually zebra print or reptile scales. Rob, a Web developer in Wellington, says he has had orgasms that begin with pinprick of light and grow into a chaotic mandala, accompanied by vibrations and a roaring in his ears. Cherry Chambers, a bookkeeper from Auckland, once felt she was 'shot up out of the deep ocean into a night sky—basically a whirl of colors rushing past,' she says. 'That was one of the most intense orgasms I have ever had.' This curious phenomenon has been sporadically documented for decades—the first academic mention is in a 1973 book by psychologist Seymour Fisher called The Female Orgasm—but it has received very little scientific attention, says Richard Cytowic, a pioneering synesthesia expert and a professor of neurology at George Washington University. In the 1980s Cytowic had to convince colleagues that synesthesia itself was worthy of scientific investigation. This type of sensory crossover is now widely accepted and studied, but its sexual variety is less so. 'It's the kind of thing that's going to raise eyebrows in university departments,' Cytowic says. 'Even though sex is wildly popular, science about it is not.' Now, though, neuropsychology researcher Cathy Lebeau is trying to learn more. Lebeau, whose own form of synesthesia makes her perceive letters as colored, became fascinated by accounts that suggested that sexual synesthesia could alter consciousness. For her doctoral research at the University of Quebec, she and her supervisor, neuropsychologist François Richer, interviewed 16 people with sexual synesthesia (who all also had other forms of synesthesia) and 11 people with no synesthesia, and had them complete a series of standardized questionnaires. All but one of the participants were women, but that doesn't mean the phenomenon is necessarily linked to the female brain. Scientists used to think all forms of synesthesia were more common in women, Lebeau points out, but subsequent studies have shown that's likely because of selection bias. 'Women like to talk about their experiences, and they're more comfortable doing it,' she says. While conducting the study—which was released as a preprint paper and has been not yet been peer-reviewed—Lebeau was surprised by how similar the participants' reported experiences were, regardless of age or whether they were from Quebec, the U.S. or Europe. 'People who didn't know each other ... were telling me almost the same thing,' she says. For instance, almost all of them reported that they needed to feel comfortable and confident with a sexual partner to see the colors and that the phenomenon rarely happened during masturbation or casual encounters. Many interviewees said they had to be in a relaxed, passive state—and often in the missionary position. And though the specifics of their visions differed, many mentioned dissociative experiences, particularly 'the feeling that they're expanding over the room and that they're not there anymore—that they're tripping, really,' Lebeau says. In fact, some people with sexual synesthesia say they are momentarily transported to bizarre, one-off scenes at the moment of orgasm. Once, an intricate architectural image of a staircase and lamp grew out of a beige mist before Ruby Watson's eyes. On another memorable occasion, she says, she briefly felt like she had become a panda chilling alongside another panda. She's mystified by where these images come from. 'We weren't sexy pandas,' she says. 'We were just chewing bamboo, getting on with life.' Such scenes can completely overwhelm Watson's spatial awareness and vision, and they don't necessarily enhance her connection with her husband. 'I'm not staring into my lover's eyes,' she explains. 'I'm seeing a baroque light fitting.' A previous study found that although people with sexual synesthesia reported better sexual function overall than people without synesthesia, there was some evidence that they had slightly less sexual satisfaction because of feelings of isolation caused by their unusual sensory experiences. Others insist synesthesia improves their sexual experience. Michelle Duff sees colors and occasionally scenes—a coven of witches on broomsticks, a sea alive with jellyfish—but because she feels like she's one of the witches or jellies, perhaps 'see' isn't the right word. 'It feels more immersive, like what I'm seeing is a visual embodiment of what I'm feeling. It's all-consuming, but it doesn't feel like I've gone off somewhere [without my partner],' she says. 'It feels like we're living out the scene together.' For some, it can be awkward explaining these rainbow journeyings to their sexual partners. For others, that's part of the fun. 'My partners love it,' Holly says. 'That's such a thing, somebody popping their head up and being like, 'What color?' It's one of the perks of being my lover.' Rob, the Web developer, says he once had the rare joy of making love to someone else with the condition. 'That was a very fun time where we would compare notes afterwards,' he says. 'It was so euphoric and shared and beautiful.' Almost everyone Lebeau interviewed felt positively about their synesthesia, telling her it made their sexual experiences richer. One person told her that the absence of these sexual 'fireworks' would turn her off a potential partner, even if he was otherwise perfect. 'If I don't have synesthesia when we sleep together, it's a no,' she says. Clashing or ugly colors can also be turnoffs. Another person I spoke with says she used to feel disturbed by the colors, textures, music and patterns she saw only during sex, and she worried that they were harbingers of schizophrenic hallucinations that run in her family. When she stumbled upon an article that explained how such symptoms can represent a type of synesthesia, she says she felt a 'huge relief and freedom.' There's no established connection between sexual synesthesia and mental health conditions, though synesthesia in general has been linked to higher rates of anxiety in children and is a significant risk factor for developing post-traumatic stress disorder. None of the 16 people with synesthesia in Lebeau's study had psychiatric or neurological conditions. But 13 of them did report surprisingly intense consciousness alterations in daily life—a tendency that has also been observed in some studies of people with synesthesia in general. Some reported symptoms of a type of delusion called Capgras syndrome, in which a person momentarily thinks that a friend or family member has been replaced with an imposter, or Alice in Wonderland syndrome—which involves distortions of reality, including the impression that one's body is shrinking or growing. Lebeau hopes people with sexual synesthesia might help researchers learn more about the underlying mechanisms of consciousness by providing a kind of 'healthy model' of severe consciousness alterations. Qualifying the differences in the brain between these benign perceptual disturbances and harmful hallucinations might help scientists better understand psychosis. For now, scientists don't know what's happening in the brain during sexual synesthesia experiences. 'It is hard to speculate on the anatomical or chemical basis of this type of synesthesia from the case descriptions alone,' says psychologist Jamie Ward of the University of Sussex in England. 'It is an important first step,' he says of Lebeau and Richer's research, though 'in this particular study, it is hard to know which findings are specifically attributable to this phenomenon and which are due to synesthesia more generally. It would have been good to compare two groups of synesthetes directly—with and without these experiences.' Lebeau would love to capture the brain activity of a person with sexual synesthesia at the multicolored moment of orgasm. Getting people to have connected, relaxed sex inside of a functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) machine, however, presents certain practical and financial constraints. 'Still, I think it's doable,' she says. 'If I had the money, in a perfect world..., that would be my dream.' Further studies into this intriguing phenomenon would be worthwhile, Cytowic says. 'Nature reveals herself through her exceptions,' he says, 'and I think synesthetic orgasms might give us an additional clue into how synesthesia operates that we didn't have before.'

Heather Stebbins is making music from sounds inside her home and her head
Heather Stebbins is making music from sounds inside her home and her head

Washington Post

time3 days ago

  • Washington Post

Heather Stebbins is making music from sounds inside her home and her head

Music is made of memory — sounds heard, feelings felt, lessons learned, all funneled through the intentionality of the moment. If you need a reminder of this fundamental truth, the music of Heather Stebbins can make it feel as vivid as life. Rich in timbre and exploratory in form, her latest compositions somehow involve just three main memory layers: the synthesizers Stebbins began studying in college (she teaches students at George Washington University how to use them today); the cello she took up in childhood, then abandoned in adulthood, then retrieved in recent years; and various field recordings of her everyday life — a practice Stebbins traces back to the private plot of real estate inside Maryland's Patapsco Valley State Park where she grew up paying sharp attention to the sound of the birds and the breeze. 'My formal musical training started when I was 6. I started cello lessons,' Stebbins says, 'but prior to that, I was just so absorbed in the sound of my natural environment. … Now, I'm like a hoarder of sound, always recording stuff.'

Independent by nature, side-by-side by choice
Independent by nature, side-by-side by choice

Boston Globe

time3 days ago

  • Boston Globe

Independent by nature, side-by-side by choice

Neither was nervous — on the outside. 'Given the nature of my work, I have an elevator pitch,' Holly explains. The Quincy native is an illustrator and entrepreneur who graduated with a BFA in Fine Arts/Studio Art from the college in 2013. Her whimsical, colorful fashion art has garnered the attention of celebrities, brands, and Adrian, who goes by Pablo, studied international business and is now in law enforcement. Like Holly, his then-longtime girlfriend, he was an involved alum — but he was working on a different kind of pitch. For the wedding ceremony, each partner nominated a family member to read a poem — Holly's aunt read 'I'd Rather Rise in Love with You' by Jana Lynne Umipig; Pablo's cousin read J. Wailen's "Tú Y Yo" in its original Spanish and in English. Kasey Canzano Photography, Gina Tremblay (second shooter) Advertisement The event was a ruse orchestrated by Pablo and some of their friends, a well-meaning scheme to get the pair back to the campus where they fell in love as undergrads. Their romance began in fall 2012; Pablo was a commuter student, and he and Holly had mutual friends on campus for three years. But it wasn't until Holly met Pablo's dog that she and her husband-to-be first connected. The 'very attractive' man who accompanied chocolate lab Bella happened to be a bonus. The university became the backdrop for a friendship that, over their senior year, became something much more. Graduation meant returning to their respective shores — South Shore for Holly, North Shore for Pablo, who grew up in Beverly. Advertisement While the venue's aesthetics drew them in, the couple says the event team at the New England Botanic Garden sealed the deal. They've since joined as members and hope to revisit their wedding day memories when they return for the museum's programming. Kasey Canzano Photography, Gina Tremblay (second shooter) More than a decade later, neither can recall a formal declaration nor giving the relationship a label during this period. But for the two, both only children who value their independence above all else, choosing to spend time together over time alone began to feel like love. 'I just remember the feeling of, I can't imagine this person not being in my life,' says Holly. 'Whenever a conversation ended, or I left him, I wanted to see him again.' So, in fall 2023, when Pablo began to plan a proposal, 'I figured, bring it back to where it all started,' he says. A mutual friend who worked at Endicott helped to orchestrate a quiet, private moment at Holly was confused when they walked into a seemingly empty venue at golden hour, but it all began to click as Pablo took a knee, surrounded by flowers and candles that Holly's best friend had set up. Still life art inspired the dinner's design. Holly filled the Orangerie tables with Flower Moxie's anthurium and calla lilies in thrifted vases, as well as "a gazillion" fresh pears and bunches of grapes she had purchased from Trader Joe's the day before. (Guests later confessed to munching on the fruit displays during the reception; the bride approved.) Kasey Canzano Photography, Gina Tremblay (second shooter) 'You're the love of my life,' he remembers saying as he presented a ring made by Holly replied 'Yes, of course!' but then remembered the networking: 'I was like, 'Wait, but do we have an event to go to right now?' And he was like, 'This is the event.'' The couple chose the Advertisement Wedding planning coincided with renovating the house on the North Shore, where they currently live. The residential project wrapped up (mostly) the same week as the wedding. The couple says they enjoy tackling professional and personal work as a team—and that both projects helped the relationship continue to thrive. 'If I'm still working at the end of the day, he'll just start helping me because it's nice to be around each other,' says Holly, who manages her art business, The wedding stretched late into the night; the after party was a low-key hang at the bar of the Hyatt Apex Center in Marlborough, where most guests and the couple were staying. They shared pizza with friends before heading to bed. 'It was a very chill way to end the night,' says Holly. Kasey Canzano Photography, Gina Tremblay (second shooter) Holly and Pablo, now both 34, wed on Friday, May 23, in an early evening ceremony with 100 of their family and friends. In the week leading up to the wedding, the couple recruited their families to help prep, stash, and transport DIY bouquets, arrangements, and 100 bud vases with fresh, soon-to-open blooms from bulk floral provider, Related : The bride illustrated their invitation suite depicting the venue, and the reception table numbers, each named after a different artist chosen by the couple. And each place card was an original portrait of the guest by Holly; guests took them home as wedding favors. For their wedding clothes, the bride and groom both opted for sparkles. Advertisement Pablo wore a midnight blue tuxedo from Saks Fifth Avenue's house label, featuring metallic threading that shimmered in flash photography and when the sun peeked through rainclouds. Pablo lost his father in 2024 and wore his anniversary band on his right hand to keep him close throughout the day. For their rehearsal dinner, Holly worked with Waltham designer David Josef to create a custom re-creation of her mother's wedding gown. Fabric from her grandmother's bridal gown was made into a clutch by Boston-based Christie Hourihan for the wedding day. Kasey Canzano Photography, Gina Tremblay (second shooter) Holly worked with bridal designer A close college friend, Gregory Payne, served as officiant. He told the guests that while they would get to see the pair say their 'I do's, Holly and Pablo had exchanged their vows hours before. Early that morning, Holly and Pablo had sneaked away to 'We both don't really like speaking in crowds,' explains Pablo. 'So, doing that alone and just having each other in our own space, it was nice. We could say what we wanted and I could barely get them out. I cried when I took the piece of paper out of my pocket.' It was important to Holly to have both her mother and father accompany her down the aisle; they walked to a commissioned strings compilation of Schubert's 'Ave Maria' that blended into Beyonce's 'Smash into You' as she reached Pablo. After the couple's "I dos" they exchanged wedding bands by New England designer Melanie Casey. Kasey Canzano Photography, Gina Tremblay (second shooter) Both remember 'sobbing, eating our bagels' at the cafe. Pablo teared up again, as Holly approached him from down the aisle: 'It was kind of like meeting each other for the first time again.' They likened the experience to feeling 'first-date jitters,' but as Holly descended toward her soon-to-be husband, all she could do was smile. Advertisement 'I had made sure all my makeup was waterproof. I was ready,' she says. 'But as my parents were walking [me] down the aisle, I was having so much fun. ... I have never been happier in my life than in that moment.' Read more from , The Boston Globe's new weddings column. Rachel Kim Raczka is a writer and editor in Boston. She can be reached at

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store